Moonlight (& the Fortune Hunter)
by MandaPanda2
Summary: Not a year. Not as long as that.


Disclaimer: All characters belong to Julian Fellowes, Carnival Films, ITV, Masterpiece, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
>Rating: PG<br>Genre: Romance  
>Spoilers: The first season.<br>Summary: Not a year. Not as long as that.

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><p>"<em>Have you been happy? Really, have I made you happy?"<em>

"_Yes. That is, since you fell in love with me which, if I remember correctly, was about a year after we were married."_

"_Not a year. Not as long as that."_

- From Episode 1/Season 1

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><p>Robert stood back, skimming along the edge of men that stood behind the seated ladies. The strains of a violin floated above the gathering, perfuming the ballroom with an almost soft remembrance. He sighed, glancing discreetly at the faces of his relatives. All of them Crawley's and Wainscott's, gathered together for his mother's birthday. It was an intimate gathering of their closest family members, swathed in cool silks for the unseasonably warm spring evening.<p>

_Thrilling. _

He sighed to himself, nearly as uncomfortable with his family as he was watching the ballet before him. A pair of dancers came all the way from Paris to honor his mother on the day of her birth, the esteemed Countess of Grantham. Around him, the Crawley and Wainscott men shifted their feet anxiously, indulging the ladies their entertainment. His own father stood behind his mother, his chin raised formally as he followed the dancers with his eyes. It was all an air, of course. Richard, the 5th Earl of Grantham, could no more stand the ballet than he could some of his own family members.

Movement from the periphery caught his attention and he looked over. Cora stood, barely drawing any attention as she slipped away. Fascinated, he watched openly as she left the ballroom, the train of her gown flying around the doorway. He looked back to his family, but no one seemed to notice her absence. With a frown, he supposed that her seat at the far-side of the gathering may have had something to do with it. His new wife had still not succeeded in warming to his mother. In the Countess' mind, she was still _The American_.

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><p>"<em>Dry goods? Richard, of all the absurd things!"<em>

_Robert reached for his glass, the wine rich against his lips as his mother's hiss cut across the table. "There are worse things, Mama."_

"_Well, it's ghastly," Violet sniffed. "And, above all, common." The last word rang with such a level of contempt that one had to wonder what it had done to offend her. She turned to her husband, her eyes blazing. "Typical of the Americans. Richard, surely-"_

"_I've already decided. The girl arrives at the end of the month." Richard looked to his son, fixing him with a smile that lacked sincerity. "I've arranged for you to go up to London and stay with my sister. Beatrix will ensure you receive a formal introduction."_

_But, the Countess was not easily dissuaded. "But, there are other girls…Lady Millicent-" she insisted. _

_He turned sharply to his wife, frowning deeply. "Isidore Levinson has made no secret of the value marriage to his daughter will bring." Violet sighed, a strange muffled noise that spoke of displeasure. "The promise of her hand has certainly drawn the attention of Pont Street."_

_Her hand. Her money. There was no difference in the Earl of Grantham's mind._

_Looking back to his only son, he continued, "I'm told she is quite lovely." His son nodded curtly, his eyes flickering between his parents before he looked down. "This is the only choice, Robert. Your marriage to Cora Levinson will save Downton."_

"_Her money, you mean? Her money will save Downton." Silence fell over the table, his mother's fork hitting the china plate. "She is incidental."_

_Richard smirked, his lips disappearing into his full mustache. "Yes, she is."_

"_As am I."_

"_You are the future Earl of Grantham." He spread his hands wide, gesturing grandly. "All of this will be yours one day, yours to pass on to your son."_

"_But, a foreigner?" Violet interjected, her mouth tight as she sighed unhappily. She sat back, folding her hands in her lap as she frowned. "An American girl in Downton."_

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><p>Now, he followed his wife down the hallway, the carpet concealing his steps. The music from the ballroom faded away, reverent silence becoming them. She turned abruptly into the library. He paused, glancing around. Follow her? Stay? After a moment, he stepped into the darkened room. But he found no one. On the opposite side, the door to the grounds was open, a tantalizing invitation. Had she know he was behind her?<p>

His face set as he traversed the room and stepped out, immediately greeted by the still night air. Silver moonlight shone down from the cloudless sky and he blinked as he glanced around. She was walking quickly away from him, practically running to the shelter of the trees. Her silk dress caught the moonlight, causing the material to glow as she stopped suddenly.

Cora's back was to him, her hands pressed to her stomach as her shoulders shook. He frowned, the grass crunching beneath him as he began to catch up with her. She spun around, her blue eyes wide as she inhaled sharply. "Are you alright?" he asked as her hands flew to her cheeks.

"What?" she gasped, her throat working hard. He saw her hands tremble, her face falling before she straightened her spine and forced a brave smile to her lips. "I'm fine." She froze, watching as the look in his eyes said he did not believe her.

"Are you sure?"

Her bottom lip quivered, even as she nodded. "Yes," she whispered, holding her trembling hands together.

The slight distance between them disappeared as he stood next to her, watching the trees in the distance. "The cherry trees have blossomed," he said softly. "Spring is here."

She followed his gaze, sniffing once more. "They're pretty."

"Unfortunately, they won't last long." He felt her eyes on him and he cleared his throat nervously, explaining, "They bloom for only a few days before withering."

"Oh…" She glanced down, a gentle gust of wind carrying the strains of the music to their ears. Shivering in spite of herself, fine bumps rising on her bare arms. "At least they shine for a few days."

"Yes." Robert turned to her, watching the shaky rise and fall of her chest. "I saw you leave." She looked over, an unasked question clouding her eyes. "Did you enjoy the ballet?"

They may have been married for several months, but there was still so _little_ he knew about his bride.

"Not particularly," she replied softly. She sighed again, watching the blades of grass bend beneath her feet. "It always seemed rather silly to me. Ladies prancing around on a stage." He nodded, daring not to interrupt as she turned back to him. "It ruins the music, don't you agree?"

"You prefer the symphony then?" He was intrigued by her genuine smile, the way her lips curled almost bashfully.

"I _adore_ the symphony," she sighed. "Before the crossing from New York, I attended a performance with my mother." Her expression turned abruptly, her eyes falling.

He watched as her hand flew to her throat and she gasped. "What's the matter? Are you ill?" he asked, taking a step to her, his hand extended. She shook her head, looking up at him with an expression of such sorrow that he was momentarily stunned. Her eyes filled with tears, glittering in the moonlight. "Cora?"

She closed her eyes, a solitary tear following the curve of her cheek. "Please…leave me alone." Turning away, she moved further from him, a dull ache throbbing in his chest. A nervous feeling crept up his spine, his fingers twitching as he whispered her name. Gently, his hand brushed against hers, her breath catching. "Don't…" she whispered, a sob rising in her throat.

"I- I'd like to help, if I may."

She shook her head, her face stubbornly turned away from him. "You can't. No one can," she cried pitifully. "It's…_wrong_."

"What is?"

"Me," Cora murmured, brushing tears from her cheeks as she straightened her spine and stared off into the night.

"You?" he sputtered, his head spinning.

"Yes, weren't you aware? I'm _The American_," she snapped, doing a rather spot-on impression of his mother. "My accent is atrocious. My gowns are decadent. I ask ridiculous and insolent questions. I don't hunt. I sneeze when I go near the horses. I'm sickly because I'm always cold and not with child yet." She paused, gasping for a breath before finally turning to Robert. "No one speaks to me - really _speaks_ to me - except Rosamund and she's preoccupied this evening with leveling insults at James' new wife."

His breath caught in his throat when she finally turned to him. Her bright blue eyes were so full of sadness that he suddenly felt overcome with a great desire to sweep her in his arms. To shield her from the gossiping entrails of his family. To never let her go.

"They're supposed to be my family," she continued softly, turning back to the bright lights of Downton Abbey, "but I've never felt more alone." She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the night. "I miss my home and my parents and my brothers."

Robert couldn't help cringing, recalling the suspicious glares the four Levinson brothers levied on the man who would take their only sister's hand in matrimony. He cleared his throat, opening his mouth to speak when she added in a whisper, "And, I long for an egg cream."

He wrinkled his nose. "Egg cream?"

"It's-" She turned, her eyes brightening for a moment until she noticed his expression. "Never mind."

"No," he said, determined. "Please tell me." She paused, suddenly trembling beneath his firm gaze as she described the soda fountain drink she tried for the first and only time in New York. "Ah," he said, a bright smile coming to his face. "That actually sounds quite delicious. We must have Mrs. Wilkins try and make one."

She frowned, his pleased expression confusing her. "You can't be serious."

It was his turn to frown as he finally stepped closer to her. "Why do you say that?"

"Your mother would never stand for something so _American_ to come out of Mrs. Wilkins' pristine and thoroughly English kitchen. It would infuriate her."

He chuckled, his cheeks rosy in the moonlight. "You're correct about that. No one infuriates quite like Mama." He offered her his arm and waited several moments before she gently slipped her arm through. They walked slowly and in silence, the golden light of the large manor house drawing them in. "Cora," he began, stopping shortly, "I feel I rather owe you an apology." She arched her brow in surprise, her dark hair a stark contrast to her alabaster skin and blue eyes. "For not realizing- that is, for not _seeing_, how unhappy you've been these last few months."

She lowered her head and he reached out, tilting her chin up so he could look into her face. "I'm very sorry," he continued, her chin quivering against his finger. A dull ache throbbed in his chest, pressing against his rib cage as he reached for her hand. "I'd very much like the chance to make it up to you."

He watched quietly as a small grin danced on her lips, blooming like a rose into a wide and genuine smile. "Do you mean that?" she asked, not noticing the way his face contorted as the pressure in his chest increased. His breath ran shallow and he was unable to reply, save for a short nod. "Thank you, Robert. I would like that _very_ much."

"_There you are!"_

They turned in unison, her hand slipping from his as Rosamund crossed the gravel to them. He nearly keeled over, the pain in his chest unbearable as he watched his sister take the hand that moments ago he was holding. "I've been looking for you, Cora dear."

"Were you?" Neither woman noticed the way Robert grimaced, staggering after them as they turned and walked back to the house. "Robert and I were-"

"Never mind that," Rosamund chastised, squeezing her hand affectionately. "I just realized that I've let that awful Eugenia monopolize my entire evening. Come with me, Darling, and let me tell you all about it."

"Oh, but we were-"

"You don't mind, do you, Robert?" Rosamund batted her green eyes at her brother, her face turning when she noticed his stilted breathing. "You look _awful_," she stated bluntly. "Are you unwell?"

He shook his head, biting his lip to stifle a moan before he finally croaked, "I just need some fr- fresh air."

Cora's face melted in concern, reaching for him as Rosamund pulled her away. "Should I stay?" she asked, fixing him with such a loving gaze that he could barely look away.

"No, I'm f- fine." He forced a smile, wincing through the pain as he nodded. "I'll be in shortly."

Robert watched her leave, flashing a coquettish grin at him over her shoulder before she disappeared indoors. He cried out, his hand flying to his chest as his heart mourned her absence. "My God," he gasped, breaking out in a cold sweat as realization dawned on him like the sun of a new day. _I'm in love with her._

_I'm in love with Cora._

THE END.


End file.
